Quiet After the Storm
by Spark Writer
Summary: The Mysterious Benedict Society contemplate their future.  Peeple seem to like this one!
1. Chapter 1

In the third floor of Nicholas Benedict's house, the Mysterious Benedict Society had convened in the girl's bedroom as they had done countless times before. They sat in a circle on the rug, each child wearing a mournful expression. Reynie's mouth was tugged downward at the corners, Sticky stared listlessly into space, Kate lay flat on her back-in no mood to perform her usual acrobatics-and Constance glowered darkly at the wall opposite. Reynie sighed, and glanced at the door, wary of any eavesdropper. But then again, Constance would have sensed if anyone was listening.

"What now?" Sticky asked the room at large. "We've asked ourselves that question before," sighed Reynie, "but we never have any answers." Kate sat up, suddenly energized. "Just because Mr. Curtain and the Whisperer are out of action, doesn't mean our adventures are over!" Reynie nodded thoughtfully. "Kate's right. I guess this is just the quiet after the storm." Constance threw Reynie a dark look. "I don't want to talk about the stupid weather!" she snipped. Sticky rolled his eyes. "It's a figure of speech, Constance. For example-" "Shut up!" Constance interrupted him. Reynie put out a hand. "Easy, Constance." Constance scrunched up her pudgy face, and narrowed her blue eyes to angry slits. "I'm mad," she sniffed, "because you'll all go off and do amazing things, and I'll be left here. It's not fair!" "We'd miss you, too, Connie-girl," Kate said pointedly, and Constance flushed. "Sticky's going to the Stonetown University full time," Constance blurted. "How'd you know that?"

"I'm small. I make a pretty good eavesdropper."

Reynie rubbed his temples with one hand, suddenly hopeless. It was finally coming home to him—the end of the Society was drawing near. "And Reynie's thinking about attending the university, also." "What?" Reynie stared incredulously at the little girl. "How can you possibly have—" He cut himself off. "Of course. You made me think about it when you told us Sticky was going. You read my thoughts." Well?" pressed Kate. "Is it true, Reynie?" Reynie stared at the uneven wood floor. "It's true, I was thinking about going, but I haven't made up my mind just yet." Kate hastily retied her golden blond ponytail. "Well this is a nice mess. Here we are, about to scatter to the wind!" She shook her head. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. I can't be farther than 50 feet from Moocho's pies." She grinned cheerily. Reynie was grateful for her optimism, but then again, Kate would be cheerful in a tank of live sharks.

He thought of how far they had all come. Sticky had once been so nervous and insecure. Now he was an intensely smart boy, with growing self-esteem to boot. Kate had become incredibly skilled with quick escapes, and clever rescues, and she was always filled to the brim with compassion. Constance was steadily honing her physic abilities, while becoming less stubborn…most of the time. Then there was Reynie himself. He had once been a lonely, isolated orphan, scorned by the other boys, and excluded from their fun. His only escape had been books, and Miss Perumal. Now, she had adopted him, and Reynie had three best friends, plus resourceful Milligan, intelligent Rhonda, loyal Number Two, and the profoundly kind Mr. Benedict who was responsible for bringing them all together. He couldn't imagine his life without any of them.

"Earth to Reynie!" Constance was squinting at him, her pudgy fists resting on her waist. "You were practically drooling over there. Mr. Benedict wants us." Sticky frowned from his spot on the floor. "Constance, nobody told us that." Just then, Number Two's voice floated up to them. "Children! Please come downstairs!" "Ha!" Constance grinned with satisfaction. The children rose silently, and filed through the doorway. Reynie paused to let the others pass. "I forgot something," he explained, in response to his friend's questioning glances. He slipped back into the room and closed the door. Taking a deep breath, and blinking away his sudden, stinging tears, he strode blindly to the window and released the rusted latch. Sticking his head out, he gazed out over the city of Stonetown, and beyond that, the bay, and even farther, Nomansen Island. He didn't know quite where he was going, but he certainly knew where he had been. "Remember the white knight," he told himself, and feeling stronger, he turned to glance at a photograph of him and his friends that Constance had hanging on the wall. He studied it carefully, then smiled to himself. If this was the quiet after the storm, he knew the Mysterious Benedict Society would surely do great things in the long sunshine after rain.

Reynie was pacing. This was highly characteristic, and had quite a calming effect on him. It aided his ability to think clearly. He strode to one end of his bedroom, wobbling slightly on the crooked boards of the floor. Coming to the wall, he stopped, turned, and paced the other direction. If only he could shake off the feeling of being watched…he glanced over his shoulder warily, then chuckled. Since when had he become so superstitious? He stopped pacing, suddenly exhausted, as though he'd gained a hundred pounds. "Moocho?" He heard Rhonda call from the floor below. This was followed by Moocho's rumbling voice, then laughter. From down the hall, Number Two's frenetic tapping at the computer keyboard was somehow soothing. Rather like a wall clock that constantly ticks, but when it stops, everyone notices its silence. Reynie sank onto Sticky's bottom bunk, and thrust his chin into his palm, feeling as melancholy as he had been back in the orphanage. He frowned at the carpet, eyeing its mustard and rust colored stripes (Number Two's work). Sticking from one corner of the rug was what appeared to be a slip of paper. Reynie crouched down, retrieved the paper, and unfolded it. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be Constance's doing, for it was written in a familiar wild scrawl. Reynie held the creased note in the pool of lamplight, and read:

Live - die

Laugh - cry

Give up - try

He furrowed his brow. This seemed to be the beginning of a poem, yet this was out of character for Constance, a girl whose greatest joy was insulting others through a lot of nasty (yet amusing) poetry. If nothing else, it was a refreshing change from "Reynie Muldoon is a dull goon." Folding the paper gently, he slipped it into his pocket, and sagged back onto the bed. Constance was wiser than he'd given her credit for. "Reynie? _Reynie?" _ Footsteps thudded in the hall and then somebody knocked on the door. "Come in," said Reynie wearily. Kate flew in, followed by Sticky (his collar awry) and Constance, who bore faint smears of peanut butter on her chin. "We've been looking all over for you," Kate laughed. "I guess we forgot to check here." Sticky straightened his lapel and flopped onto the rug. "It's hot up here," he murmured thickly. "Very hot." This was due to the faulty heating system in the old house. The first floor was chilly, while the third floor was sweltering.

Kate placed her fire engine-red bucket on the floor, and began tidying the boy's room. She breezed about, gathering scattered books, smoothing blankets, and folding piles of clothes. Reynie was grateful for her cheerful energy; it was a relief from his previously gloomy mood. Constance meanwhile, had settled herself in Sticky's desk chair, muttering something about Reynie being "mopey and dopey." "Milligan's taking us into town tomorrow," Kate announced. She tossed a stray sock into the hamper. "We might even get to eat lunch near the bay." Constance glowered at Kate. "It stinks down there. Like old fish and gasoline." Kate shrugged. "I don't mind a little dead fish." Sticky rubbed his stubbled scalp. "That's a good thing. Dad wants to get started on the new flooring by tomorrow morning." Mr. Washington was a skilled carpenter, who frequently put his skills to use by fixing the various glitches in the timeworn house. "I'm so glad we don't have to worry about the stupid ten men, anymore," said Kate. "They drove me nuts. Besides, Crawlings was about as intelligent as a doorknob." The other children nodded, and Sticky shuddered. They all despised Mr. Curtain's followers, a group known as Ten-Men. They carried briefcases full of lethal weapons. Shock watches, poisonous chewing gum, laser pointers, and needle-sharp pencils were just a few. Crawlings had been a particularly brainless ten man, known for having only one eyebrow.

"Anyway," continued Kate, "Even though I miss our adventures, it's nice to know we don't have to constantly be ready for attack." "And now Mr. Curtain is my stupid uncle," Constance growled, spinning in the desk chair. "And I have to visit him every first Wednesday of the month." Her cheeks turned bright crimson, and her wispy blond hair stuck out madly on all sides. It was odd, thought Reynie. Mr. Curtain had once been the Society's greatest enemy. Now, however, he was the cranky, stubborn twin brother to Mr. Benedict, and Constance's uncle, besides. She dreaded the monthly visits to Stonetown prison, and described her experiences in various dark poems. Reynie sighed for the umpteenth time, and stared at the ceiling.

"What happened to all the Ten men?" he asked. "Like Crawlings and Garrotte, and Sharpe?" Sticky reached for his spectacles, then seemed to remember that he now wore contact lenses. "They've gone back into the woodwork, I suppose." Kate rolled her eyes. "Slunk off like dogs with their tails between their legs, I'll bet." Reynie was suddenly angry. "Mr. Curtain paid them to do his dirty work. But as much as they enjoyed the money, they also have a sick pleasure in their doing his work. Hurting children and innocent people is a vile way to live!" "Yeah," agreed Constance. "Vile rhymes with bile, as in, they make me want to barf!" Kate, now practicing her handstands in the corner, snickered. "Remember Crawlings' eyebrow? And the way he used to wiggle it when he was about to shock us?" Reynie nodded with a wry smile. "I'll never forget."

So engrossed in their conversation were the children, that when Rhonda entered the room, they all leaped to their feet, and Kate jumped into a defensive stance. Rhonda raised her eyebrows, amused, and the children relaxed, feeling rather ridiculous. "It's suppertime," she explained. "Unless of course you don't want any." Constance folded her arms. "That's a stupid question, Rhonda." Rhonda smiled enigmatically. "There are no stupid questions, Constance, only stupid answers." At this, the young woman turned, and was gone. The Mysterious Benedict Society exchanged bemused glances, and followed Rhonda downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner was a well-loved affair in Mr. Benedict's house. Moocho Brazo's sonorous laughter, combined with the chatter of Miss Perumal and Patti, Milligan, the Washington's, Rhonda and Number Two, and Mr. Benedict himself. Reynie found himself squished beside Miss Perumal, with Sticky jammed on his other side. Reynie picked up a loose copy of the Stonetown Times – it had been lying on the table before him – and scanned the headlines with interest. "I've already read that," Sticky commented around a mouthful of salad. "And?" Reynie asked. "Anything unusual?" Sticky swallowed with some difficulty, and shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. Now that the Emergency's been resolved, everyone seems to have moved on." Reynie, who understood this all too well, nodded. His thoughts were interrupted as Miss Perumal passed him a basket of rolls. "Moocho's made his famous apple pie for dessert," Miss Perumal informed him, and straightened Reynie's collar as she spoke. Reynie grinned. "I thought so. What else would smell so delicious?" Miss Perumal laughed knowingly, and turned to receive a platter of chicken from Number Two, who was balancing the tray precariously on one hand.

"Yugh, what the heck is this?" Reynie glanced across the table at Constance. She was moodily prodding a pile of spinach with her fork. Sticky was quick to answer. "That's spinach. Everyone knows tha – " "You be quiet," Constance snipped. "I never asked you." Sticky's expression, a disquieting blend of anger, resentment and aggravation, silenced Constance. Reynie wished Constance and Sticky wouldn't lose their tempers so easily. It gave him a burgeoning headache. At least, Kate, enthusiastically devouring her dinner, was in a good mood. Her eyes flicked over at Reynie, and she grinned at him from across the table. "Why the long face?" she giggled. Reynie laughed, too. "I guess Constance's antics got to me a little." Kate looked down the table at Constance, and shook her head. "She's a character, that's for certain." Reynie rubbed his forehead, and sighed. His focus was slipping away. He desperately missed the air of anticipation and exhilaration that came with defeating Mr. Curtain. As glad as he was to be out of danger, his inborn ingenuity had not been put to use for over six months. "Reynie?" Reynie snapped his gaze over to Mr. Benedict, slightly embarrassed by his loss of concentration. "Would you mind passing those rolls? I can never manage to get one." "Here," Reynie said with a smile, eager not to appear unusual – at least not on the outside. Sinking back into his chair, Reynie picked up his fork, studied it, then placed it back on his plate. His voracious appetite had diminished, and he doubted even Moocho's pie would entice it. Sticky meanwhile, was glowering at Constance, who was gazing back, her eyes narrowed. Reynie glanced between them a few times. "What?" he questioned Sticky. Sticky puffed air through his cheeks in irritation. "_She_," he growled through tightly gritted teeth, "just called me "Icky Sticky!" Constance snickered wickedly. "Hey, if the spectacles fit…" Sticky's face flushed scarlet with suppressed anger. "Save it, Constance!" He rose jerkily, and stormed from the dining room. His absence went unnoticed by the adults, who were listening to Mr. Benedict speak. Apparently, it was a funny story, because now and then, they would break into laughter, Mr. Benedict's dolphin-like squeals ringing merrily. Kate was watching the doorway Sticky had just marched through, with a troubled expression. Reynie supposed that if Kate was upset, things were serious. Normally, her ever-cheerful exterior remained untouched. Constance, meanwhile, was fiddling with her sweater, obviously avoiding Kate or Reynie's gaze. "Constance," Reynie began quietly. "You know what you need to do." "No," Constance protested stubbornly. "I will not apologize to someone who called me an obstinate imp!" Kate snickered, then quickly checked herself. "Still, said Reynie lightly. "You still need to say you're sorry." "Yeah?" Constance challenged. "Yes." Kate, her lips still twitching, nodded. "I agree with Reynie." "You always do," Constance moaned disgustedly, but she was already making for the door. "We'll be right back," Reynie called over his shoulder to the adults. Then he and Kate escorted Constance to, as she put it – her "gloom and doom and dusty old tomb." She crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and puffed her cheeks, so that she looked like a distorted rag doll. Much to Kate's amusement – and Reynie's exasperation, she remained like that, all the way up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The boys' bedroom door was tightly closed, though Reynie was convinced he could hear Sticky shuffling around the room, and shifting papers. Reynie looked down at Constance, then at the door. Constance scowled,

and knocked twice on the door. The rustling stopped, and Sticky was silent. This time, Reynie knocked, and called to his friend. "Sticky? Can we talk to you?" Silence. Then Sticky spoke, sounding muffled due to the 

door sandwiched between him and his friends. "I'd like to be alone right now." Kate glanced concernedly at Reynie. "What now?" she whispered. Reynie thought for a moment, then raised his fist and knocked once

more. "Sticky, please, open the door." In a moment, it swung wide, and Sticky stared angrily out at them.

"_What?" _Constance fidgeted uncomfortably. "Um…" she began. Kate rolled her eyes. "Oh, good grief, Sticky? Can't we just come in and at least get comfortable? I'm sick of hanging around in this drafty hallway."

Sticky, still furious, stepped aside and allowed Reynie, Constance and Kate to file into the bedroom. Reynie looked around at the room with unease. There, on the floor, were great piles of newspaper, loose sheets of

notepaper, and scattered books. Sticky seemed to have uprooted every drawer in the room. Settling himself on a chair, Reynie watched Kate scramble up the bunk bed latter to perch on the metal guard railing, while

Constance stood awkwardly before Sticky, her small arms folded in a gesture of defiance. After a moment, Reynie cleared his throat in an effort to remind Constance of the task at hand. She stood on one foot, then

the other, then spoke.

"Listen, Sticky," she began. "I know that you can be an annoying, puffed up, maddening, vexing, wimpy, bother – " Sticky glared at Constance. "Get the point, Constance!" She reddened. "Bothersome," she went on,

"and snobbish. But I really am sorry for calling you Icky Sticky, and for saying all the things I just said." Reynie was impressed. Constance rarely apologized to anyone, so this was definite progress. Sticky scrutinized

Constance with a slightly hurt, slightly appraising glance. At last, he nodded and, with an odd expression, asked Constance if he could ask her something. "Can I have that in writing?" It took Constance a few seconds

to realize that Sticky was joking, and even she joined in on Kate and Reynie's titters. Though she blushed, and covered her head with a pillow, Reynie could tell, that she was relieved to have made up with Sticky. "By

the way," said Sticky, his lips twitching, "I'm sorry for calling you an obstinate imp. Even if you are one." At this, Constance used the pillow she was holding to pummel Sticky.

Amid the laughter and growled threats, Reynie sank back in his chair, beyond tired. This conflict with his friends had spent a good deal of his energy and patience. WHAM. A pillow bombarded Reynie, and much to his

friends' surprise, he tossed it back, catching Sticky in the stomach. Kate laughed with pleasure, and snatched up another pillow, ready to fire. Reynie ducked behind an armchair just in time; Kate's pillow sailed ove  
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his head, and hit the wall instead. Constance, who was beating Sticky mercilessly with a pillow, went inexplicably pale, and dropped her pillow. Reynie, his eyes on Constance, didn't see Kate's tossed pillow, and it

thumped into the side of his head. Staggering, Reynie desperately blinked back stars. He swiveled his eyes over to Constance. She was crouching on the rug, smoothing a well-creased sheet of paper. Then it came to

Reynie. Her poem (or rather the beginnings of a poem) had fallen out of Reynie's pocket, and now Constance knew he had read it. He could tell by the way she stared nervously at him, alone. "I'm sorry, Constance,"

he said. "It was sticking from under the rug in your room. It was a good start, you know." Kate was retying her ponytail. "What's going on, you two?" Constance colored. "Reynie got hold of one of my poems." "Well, I

don't see why that's so bad," Kate commented. "It wasn't exactly my usual style of poetry, though." Sticky rolled his eyes. "You mean you wrote something other than nasty, badly written poetry? I don't believe it."

Constance sighed. "I meant it to be for Mr. Benedict. I've never written him a nice poem before." Reynie nodded. "He'll love it." There was an awkward pause. "I thing I'm just going to…" Constance trailed off, and

made for the door. "Erm…I think I'll get ready for bed." She left, looking disgruntled. Kate wrinkled her nose. "That Connie-girl is something else." Reynie nodded. "Something else, indeed."

In his own mind, Reynie knew that Constance was upset because he had seen proof of her softer side, the one rarely perceived, and almost always hidden in layers of grief, disguised as anger.


	4. Chapter 4

Down town Stonetown was ablaze with activity. Throngs of pedestrians traveled along the streets, while a thread of cars sped past Stonetown Square in dizzying repetition. Reynie, Kate, Sticky and Constance stood shoulder to shoulder, with Milligan scanning the street for cars. "Alright," he said at last. "Come on, everyone." Reynie and his friends strode across the street, a light breeze lifting their hair from their foreheads and playing with it. Constance raised her button nose to the sky and sniffed. "See?" she snipped. "Gasoline and dead fish." But everyone was in such a good mood, they only smiled and shook their heads. Milligan led them along a crowed sidewalk, where (between buildings) Reynie could see Stonetown bay, only soured by the distorted smudge that was Nomanson Island. Reynie felt a bit cold despite the warm sun overhead. "Reynie." Kate was poking him. "you look upset. What's up?" "Nothing," Reynie said with a smile. He chuckled inwardly at his gloomy thoughts. Though Reynie was exceptionally clever in every sense of the word, he keenly felt the responsibility of having the "gift of perception," as Mr. Benedict put it. Having been a previously lonely child, he hadn't forgotten what it was like to be alone and without friends. A group of gabbling teenagers passed the children, bumping them and causing Constance to glower with dislike. "That was rude," she growled. "Connie-girl," laughed Kate, "are you always in a mad mood?" Constance retorted without missing a beat."That you look like a crocodile, there can be no denial." Sticky sniggered. "You be quiet," Constance said shrilly. And Sticky was.

The Mysterious Benedict Society arrived at the bay, where several eateries, shops and boathouses were scattered about, all with a lovely view of the sparkling water. Milligan shielded his ocean blue eyes against the sun, and turned to the children. "Should we eat now, or later?" Kate grinned. "What do you think?" Milligan laughed. "Are you really that hungry?" Kate put her hands on her hips. "Are you kidding me? Breakfast is a distant memory." "Okay, okay." Milligan glanced at Reynie and Sticky. "How about you boys?" Reynie and Sticky consented. Being thirteen year old boys, they were constantly hungry, and as for Kate, she had always been that way. Reynie swung round, suddenly aware of Constance's absence. He opened his mouth to ask if Milligan had seen the little girl, when Constance issued a strangled shriek from somewhere out of sight.

"Good gravy!" Kate yelled, and Sticky ducked as though someone had just struck him. "What was that?" Reynie ignored Kate, and hurried to a low seawall that threaded its way all along the bay shore. Reynie peered over it, and gasped. Constance was clinging to a stone that jutted from the seawall. Her legs kicked frantically to and fro, and Reynie could see why. The alternative meant a forty foot drop to a rocky beach. Fighting a nauseating sense of vertigo, Reynie looked desperately about for anything Constance could grab on to. Nothing. Luckily, Kate appeared beside him, with Sticky gasping behind her. Kate, seeing the problem, deftly withdrew her coiled length of rope from her fire-engine red bucket. She tied it tightly around her waist, then flung the other end over the seawall. She did this in about eight seconds flat.

"Grab the rope!" Reynie bellowed. Sticky moaned. Constance managed to grip the rope, her eyes rolling with fright. Kate lost no time in pulling the little girl to safety. For a moment, all four children either whimpered, groaned or clutched on another. Constance clutched her head tightly, as though afraid it would come loose and roll away. Kate was the first to speak. "Where on earth is Milligan?" "Right here," said a voice. Kate jumped to her feet, and leaned over the seawall. Milligan!" she cried. Milligan was standing on the beach, right below the spot Constance had just vacated. It was obvious now. If Constance had fallen, Milligan had been ready to catch her. "How did you get down there?" Milligan smiled, and his eyes (so like his daughter's) twinkled. "I'll leave the telling to you."

A moment later, Milligan joined the children, and studied Constance for any serious injury. Finding none, he gave her an affectionate pat, and lifted her to her feet. Constance glanced at her friends. "Thanks for the help," she murmured. "No problem," said Kate. "How did you fall, anyway?" Constance reddened "I thought I dropped my globe pendant. I looked down and it wasn't there."

"Oh, it's at home," explained Kate. "I saw it on the dress-"

"Yes, I know that _now,_" snipped Constance peevishly, "but I didn't know it _then._" Reynie laughed, and Constance stuck out her tongue. "You're a sweet-heart, Constance."

"I...thank you." And Constance meant it, too.


End file.
